


Buoyant

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Clubbing, F/M, Grinding, Oral Sex, Post-Episode: s02e09 The Satan Pit, Prompt Fic, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: He’d twirled away from her in a flurry of nonsensical words, and tired of the game, she’d asked him for a drink.





	Buoyant

**Author's Note:**

> Paigenotblank on tumblr prompted: Ten x Rose with Grinding/Under the influence. I hope you like this!! <3
> 
> I'm strangely attached to this little fic and am really happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to SelenaTerna for the read through. ST also requested that this fic end with Doomsday not happening, so thanks to her, consider it done! Haha! Because I SAY SO!

Music pounds through the speakers around her, the sound so loud it sends vibrations up her feet and through her body. The pleasant sensation mixes with the three – no, two (the third was a sort of peach martini) – hypervodka sours she’d downed in the last hour and creates a heady buzz that drowns out the ominous predictions of the Beast that play on a repetitive loop in her mind.

She swipes a shot off the tray of a passing waiter, a tall, purple alien with three yellow eyes. Throwing it back, she carelessly slams the glass on the tray and makes her way back to the dance floor, allowing the music to send her back to the more carefree days of her youth, when she’d lose herself in the music and the beat, content to drift in buoyant moments of dance. 

The lights flash around her as the base pumps a steady beat, and Rose finds herself drawn to _him._ _Him,_ who stares at her with dark eyes that follow her every move. _Him,_ who’d clung to her so desperately after signing off with the crew. _Him,_ who’d pressed his mouth to hers and ravished her lips with such a ferocity that’d left her breathless _._

_ Still  _ makes her breathless–

–with want and need from months and months and  _ months _ of unresolved tension.

He’d twirled away from her in a flurry of nonsensical words, and tired of the game, she’d asked him for a drink. (Or twelve.)

And now she’s here –  _ they’re  _ here – and she’s had her drinks and built her confidence, and she wants to finish what he’d started earlier, what they’d started the moment he first took her hand and said, “Run!” 

Despite the pulsing lights, the flashing darkness, the chaos surrounding her, she catches his gaze and holds it, stalking toward him with slightly wobbly steps in her sky high heels and mini skirt. Still, she makes a steady course and presses herself to  _ him  _ without a moment’s hesitation.

“Rose.” Her name is barely audible above the noise, but she ignores him, choosing instead to move against him, grinding herself against his body to the slow, steady beat of music. 

After he responds –  _ finally  _ –  there’s nothing but hands and skin and sweat and heat and  _ delicious  _ friction as their bodies move together to the music. When he takes her hand and tugs her away from it all, through the crowds and out the door, then down the street to the tiny alley they’d hid the TARDIS in, a thrill of anticipation races through her veins. 

Instead of opening the door and drawing her inside, he turns to her, gripping tightly to her hips as if she tethers him to the earth, and stares into her eyes, searching and searching until she thinks he finally accepts what she gives him, has always given him.  

_ Everything.   _

_ Love.  _

_ Herself. _

_ Forever.  _

His lips return to hers,  _ finally _ intent on continuing their earlier exploration, and his hands –  _ God, his hands  _ – firmly ride over the curve of her bum and pull her against him until she feels the hard length of  _ him _ against her hip. 

In the next moment, however, before she can respond, he falls to his knees before her, gripping the backs of her thighs. Her breath catches in her throat as he trails his nose up her inner thigh, sending a flurry of shivers over her skin at his feather light touch. Nudging the bottom of her skirt with his nose, he breathes in deeply, and her head falls back against the TARDIS as a rush of wetness to her core announces her arousal. 

_ Fuck. _

Ever the curious scientist, he shifts his hand to the inside of her thigh and up, higher and higher until his fingers slide through her slick folds and brush gently over her clit. 

“No knickers,” he says with faux casual interest before taking a long lick, tasting her arousal. His hum of appreciation rumbles against her thigh. 

She shifts her stance slightly, opening her legs to welcome him, and he embraces the change, plunging two fingers inside her as he sucks gently on her clit. With a cry of pleasure, she buries her fingers in his hair, desperate for something to ground her to this moment, and he moans against her. 

The vibrations of his voice and his magical fingers bring her quickly to the edge, with one last flick of his tongue against her clit, she shatters, shouting his name – always and only ever  _ him _ – and she’s thankful for his firm grasp on her legs, because she’s not quite sure they’ll hold her up much longer. 

Standing slowly, he tugs her skirt back down and slides his hand up her body to hold her in place. He smiles a beautiful crooked smile, his lips still shiny with her arousal, and even after everything, she blushes. 

“Hello,” she says, biting her lip. 

He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hello.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!


End file.
